


Jemma Simmons Would Never

by itsavolcano



Series: 10 Hail Marys [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alluded to Sex in the Shower, And is Very Exhausted, F/M, How Can She NOT be TEMPTED?? I MEAN, Jemma Simmons Has No Chill, Leo Fitz is a Hottie in a Cardi, Oral Sex, Sex at a Conference, Vaginal Sex, sex against a door
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 20:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15056720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsavolcano/pseuds/itsavolcano
Summary: Jemma Simmons would never meet her lover at the annual science and technology conference. Leopold Fitz would never keep a standing hotel reservation. And the sex wouldn’t be that great, anyway.





	Jemma Simmons Would Never

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @dilkirani for the beta and the assurance and the... good-spirited cajoling.

And I'd take him back to my hotel bed  
We’d go all night ‘til he kills me dead  
(“Too Repressed”; Sometymes Why) 

Nothing about today was going to plan and Jemma was running late. Her mother-in-law had been stuck in traffic on the way to the house, and then her oldest son wouldn’t go down for his nap without a third book while her youngest son wouldn’t stop crying for a second bottle of milk. To top it all off, her husband had called to say his consultation with the newly revitalized space exploration department was running over an extra week. The house was more chaotic than usual and Jemma was so exhausted she had nearly left without her presentation notes. 

She groaned with sudden realization, smacking the steering wheel. While she remembered her notes, she had forgotten her overnight bag containing her well-ironed outfit for tomorrow. What she had on now, a charcoal tweed skirt, matching jacket, and white blouse, would have to do. She just hoped her black bra wouldn’t be too noticeable under the hot stage lights.

Once upon a time, she had been overly prepared and always punctual. Then, she settled down, married, had a family and… well, she lived on other people’s timetables, now. But the annual Northeast Science and Technology Summit at the downtown Hilton was the one day of the year she could truly relax. She needed this, needed this night away from home and away from her responsibilities. Tonight she wasn’t a mother or a wife. Until the next morning, she could unwind and surround herself with like-minded, intelligent people.

She looked forward to it every year, from the highly spirited, vigorous debates to the well-researched, innovative lectures. She even enjoyed the strange little finger foods passed around the trays during the evening mixer. But most importantly, she looked forward to seeing  _ him _ — Dr. Leopold J. Fitz — up there at the podium.

Without much thought, she gave her keys to the waiting valet, hitched her satchel further up on her shoulder and smoothed her tight skirt down her thighs. After finding his name on the day’s itinerary, she quickly made her way to the main auditorium where he was slated to speak in ten minutes.

She and Fitz had first met at the Academy, and then had teamed up at SciOps. After that, life had thrown them some unexpected curveballs, and their career trajectories diverged, their working partnership dissolved. 

But Jemma loved attending his presentation at the conference each year. She loved watching him move across the stage, graceful and lean, speaking animatedly with an astuteness that first drew her in during their many debates. He gestured with his hands when he spoke—most people did — but there was something decidedly distracting when Fitz did it. Her cheeks heated at the thought of his long fingers, curling and unfurling in the air as he spoke about dielectric polarization, as he mapped out hypotheses on whiteboards, as he traced constellations on her skin. 

A shiver ran down her spine as she recalled the way he had held her against his hotel room door, last year. Or was it the year before? Would he take her the moment they stumbled into the hotel room, push her skirt over her hips, yank her knickers to the side and push into her in one perfect motion? God, she hoped so. Jemma bracketed her throat with her palms, forcing back the illicit moan rising in her chest. How long before they could slip off, unnoticed? 

She pulled at the heavy auditorium door, startled to see his presentation well underway. Despite her best efforts, the door fell closed with a slam and several heads turned to glare at her for the disturbance. To a casual observer, he seemed unaffected by her sudden arrival, but Jemma knew better. She had zeroed in on the subtle way he curled his hand at his side, at the way he briefly shifted from one foot to the other. And then, of course, how he raked his gaze up her body, his eyes catching on her every curve as she found the nearest empty seat.

Just as she had dressed with him in mind, it was clear he’d done the same for her, from his pressed navy trousers and crisp light blue button up, to the silver cowl neck cardigan. He looked delectable. 

No, Jemma thought, forget fucking against his hotel room door. She wanted to drop to her knees in front of him, undo his trousers with her teeth and suck him off. 

She focused back on the present only to find he was still watching her as he spoke. Even from such a distance, Jemma could see the flicker of amusement at the corner of his mouth. He knew what she’d been thinking. She did her best to push those thoughts aside… but it had been so long and he was  _ right there _ . He gave her a quick wink before returning to his notes and she knew he felt the same desperation. Someone to her left coughed and she did her best to pay attention to his research.

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting at the hotel bar, doing their best to be inconspicuous and failing. It wasn’t uncommon for attendees to become openly, well,  _ randy _ , at conferences, but Jemma did hate to be a cliche.—No matter how delicious Fitz looked and no matter how distracting his fingers were, tracing over her inner thigh. 

She lifted her dry gin martini to her lips and Fitz continued on, discussing his latest designs for his current project. It was something he had been working on in recent weeks, and not related to his presentation. He asked for her opinion and she gave it, freely. He lit up at her suggestions and sketched out ideas on bar napkins. It reminded her of nights spent at the Boiler Room when they were students, downing drink while excitedly chatting about their ideas. In this moment, everything felt perfect, all of her worries and the stress of the real world faded away. She wished for more moments like this.

“Very promising research, Dr. Fitz,” a gray-haired stuffed shirt she recognized as a retired board member ambled up behind them, and Fitz yanked his fingers away from her thigh, where he had started once again drawing circles.

“Ah, thank you, sir.” He scratched absently at his ear and Jemma stifled a grin. How he managed to be self-assured and exact one moment, and then boyishly awkward the next still amused her.

“And Dr. Simmons, it’s wonderful to see you.” The man’s eyes zeroed in on her legs and any good will she felt for the codger evaporated. “What can we expect from your presentation?”

“A wealth of knowledge, of course.” She straightened her posture with practiced poise. “As you know, I’m sure, I have an extensive understanding of the human body. For example, I know where to pinch and for how long in order to incapacitate and possibly maim an adult male.”

“What does that have to do with this year's conference theme?” The man frowned but didn’t look up. 

“Keep looking down my top and you’ll find out.” 

He instantly blustered, turned bright red, and slinked away. 

“Is it strange I found that attractive?” Fitz leaned closer, his blue eyes sparkling with affection. 

“Nope.” She used her teeth to remove the olive garnish from the toothpick. Fitz watched her with interest. “You have a room upstairs.” It wasn’t a question.

“Oh?” He smiled, downing the last of his scotch and water. “Who told?”

“I have my ways of getting information.” 

“So I’ve heard.” He closed out their tab and helped her stand. “Maim away.”

* * *

The elevator ride was an excruciating four minutes during which Jemma had struggled to keep her hands to herself. But once they arrived to his floor, they moved quickly down the hall and Fitz swiped his key card into the room.

“How long has it been?” he asked as he immediately spun them around and pressed her against the closed door, his mouth hot on her neck. He yanked her jacket from her arms and tossed it to the floor without care.

“How long has what been?” She dragged her nails through his close-cropped hair and over his scalp. In return, he pulled the shoulder of her blouse to the side, pressing kisses over the swells of her breasts.  

“Since your husband made you come?” 

“I think you already know the answer to that.” She unfastened his belt and drew down the zip on his pants. Slipping her hand inside, she ran her fingers over the smooth hardness of his cock. “I’ve been dreaming of this.” 

Then she dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth, swirling the flat of her tongue over the slick head. Fitz groaned and leaned on his elbow, against the door jamb.

“Jemma, if you keep doing that, the evening will end sooner than either of us want.” 

She hummed but continued, pumping him in her hand. After a moment, he somehow found enough awareness to reach down and lift her back to her feet. 

He took her face in his hands and tipped her head back, creating the perfect angle to kiss her, to devour her. She whimpered as he nipped at her lower lip, as he sucked at her tongue. She felt a little more of her control crack and float away when he began to back her to the large bed.

Struggling to undo the buttons on her top, he paused in his kisses to focus on the task. Once he managed to undo the buttons, he let it crumple, suddenly gobsmacked by her lacy black demi-cup bra. “Dr. Simmons, this, I must say, is quite the look.” 

His lips were wet and swollen from her kisses, and Jemma felt a yearning pulse between her legs as he drew his gaze down her body. Without waiting for him to make the next move, she unzipped the skirt and stepped out of it once it pooled at her feet, kicking off her heels on the way.

“It’s a matching set,” she offered as Fitz shifted his focus to the small scrap of fabric barely covering her, and the matching black stockings. In that moment she felt powerful, beautiful. “And you’re far too dressed.” 

A problem he remedied in under twenty seconds. It was her turn to gaze upon him, to memorize every plane, slope, and muscle. She found it adorable that he still blushed when she looked at him so openly.

Then, regaining his self-assuredness, he gently tossed her onto the mattress with a bounce and she laughed. But soon he kneeled over her, kissing a path down her stomach until she stopped him with a tug at his hair. She was already more than ready for him. He raised his head with a questioning look as she unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. 

“There’ll be time for that later.” She pulled him down on top of her, bracketing her knees around his hips. He was watching her intently, barely moving a muscle. When she whimpered in frustration, he only smirked.

“Tell me what you want, Jemma.” His voice was so thick with desire it alone almost sent her over the edge. In these intimate moments together, he made her feel cherished and protected. She felt safe and she knew he would give her anything she wanted, anything she needed. All she had to do was ask. But what did she want, tonight of all nights? She felt her frustration grow, felt her lust take over. 

“I want,” she watched him as she blindly yanked the flimsy lace knickers from her body, “you to fuck me.” His eyes narrowed, dark with a hunger and he bit hard at his bottom lip.

With her stockings still on, she wrapped her legs him and he dropped his head to her shoulder, moaning at the delicious friction, his hips twitching against her. Then, without preamble, he gripped his cock and dragged it over her pussy, once, twice, three times, until she could no longer stand it and tilted her hips upward. With one deliciously luxurious thrust, he was inside of her, stretching her, filling her. 

“Fuck, Jemma—” he moaned as he continued to slowly thrust. She pressed open mouthed kisses along the underside of his jaw, licking at the salt on his skin before reaching down and squeezing his bum.

“That’s rather the idea,” she murmured and he practically growled as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her with him, onto his lap. He continued to support her, guiding her movements, edging her closer to her climax. She scrambled for more leverage, gripping his shoulders. The change in angle did wonders. She was so close—it was right there—but—

Reading her desperation, Fitz reached between their bodies and circled his thumb over her clit on the next downstroke, instantly sending her over the edge. Gasping, Jemma quivered with the aftershocks of her own release. But she could still feel him, hard and hot within her, his thrusts inexact and ungainly as he struggled to regain focus. She knew the solution, knew how to push him over the edge. Jemma nipped his earlobe between her teeth and then drew it into her mouth, soothing it with her tongue. 

“Come for me, Fitz.” She pulsed her muscles around him and he went still for one brief moment before losing control. No longer able to hold himself upright, he dropped her back to the bed and pumped into her with abandon, panting into her shoulder and coming with a voiceless moan. There was little doubt her neck would be covered in beard burn tomorrow but she found she didn’t care. Blood hummed through her ears. 

Together, they stayed still, sated, neither one wanting to break contact. When he finally slipped from her body, but before she could complain, he rolled to the side and tucked her against him. 

“Well, Dr. Fitz, that was an excellent presentation, I must say,” she teased once she had regained her senses. He was still panting but managed a chuckle.

“Gimme a few and I’ll be happy to show you more of my findings.” She hummed her agreement and he tipped his head down. “On the condition that those stockings stay on.”

* * *

“How much longer do we have?” Fitz mumbled against the top of her head as he smoothed her hair away from his mouth. The time on the nearest clock read 8:24 am. 

“My presentation is at ten. You’ll be there?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.”

“When is your flight?”

“At one.” 

“Another week in Houston,” Jemma groaned. He rolled her to her back and smiled, his love for her shining clear in his eyes.

“I’ll make it up to you.” He nibbled at her breast before catching her nipple in his mouth and palming the other one. She groaned again, but this time for a much different reason. 

“Laundry for a month?” She teased, half-heartedly. “You’ll take the boys to soft play on Saturdays and music group on Mondays?”

“That can be arranged.” He mumbled against her skin, tonguing a trail down her stomach. 

“And grocery shopping.” She shivered when Fitz dipped his tongue in her navel. “Grocery shopping isn’t as fun without you there, grumbling at all the vegetables I toss in the carriage.” 

He gave an affectionate snort.

“I will do all of that and more, happily, but why wait until I’m home to start my atonement?” 

“Oh? What do you have in mind?”

He smoothed a hand over her thighs and she dropped her knees open. She raised up on her elbows and watched as he licked at her before sucking her clit until she whimpered. “You always do make excellent points, husband.” Jemma collapsed back to the bed and he scooped his hands under her bum, drawing her closer.

Her mobile rang on the nightstand and she blindly grabbed it, reading the incoming call. “It’s your mum.”

Fitz jolted upright and backed away from her so quickly he practically fell on his bare ass.

“Hello?” She was still laughing when she answered the call. “Good morning, Mary, yes we did have a rather restful night’s sleep.” 

Fitz straightened, shaking his head at his wife as he wiped his mouth, blushing all the way up to the tips of his ears. 

“Ah, that sounds like a problem for his father.” Without further comment, she gave the mobile to Fitz. 

“Hi, Mum.” His voice cracked and he winced as he struggled to hold the phone against his shoulder and pull on his pants. She was certain he’d put on his parka if he’d brought it. “Sure, I can talk to Henry.”

Jemma checked the clock again and slipped on the fluffy white hotel robe. She had an hour before she needed to check in for her presentation and it seemed their rendezvous had come to an end, for the time being.

As Fitz continued to cheer up their oldest son with promises of more FaceTime chats from Houston and a lads’ day out when he returned (just the two of them, no babies and no mums allowed), Jemma began to gather her toiletries. Just as she was about to ask where her clothes from the night before had disappeared to, there was a knock at the door. 

Jemma watched, perplexed, as Fitz slipped cash from his wallet and answered the door, only pausing in his chat with Henry to thank the attendant. Then, he returned to her side, holding out a freshly dry cleaned skirt and blouse sheathed in tissue paper and plastic. There was even a package of new underwear stapled to the hanger.

“When did you—?”

“You were asleep. Can’t have you a wrinkled mess, now. Jemma Simmons would never.” He winked before returning his attention to their son.

Warmth bloomed in her chest at how sweet and considerate he was, at how well he took care of her, of their family, and she kissed his cheek. 

“Ok, Henry, Da’s gotta go but I’ll FaceTime you from the airport and then when I’m back with the rockets, yeah? I love you and Mum loves you. She’ll be home tonight. Now let me talk to Gran.”

Jemma smiled when she heard Mary’s curt reply at being called Gran. She much preferred Grandma. After giving their goodbyes, Fitz disconnected the call and dropped her mobile to the bed. 

“Do you think we’re getting too old for this?” He sighed.

“For sex? I certainly hope not.” 

“No, for the conference and the hotel room and being away from the boys—” He fidgeted as she watched him closely.

“Fitz, these conferences are important to our careers and it’s the only one we really attend with any regularity.” Jemma pressed her palm to his chest and he met her eyes. “And the boys are fine. The fact you’ve been gone on business for a few weeks is a rarity and they’re so young they won’t remember. They  _ will _ remember all of the bedtime stories and footie matches and cuddles. They’ll remember that they have the greatest dad in the world. They won’t worry if one of us is away, be it three weeks or one night.”

“So I should keep the hotel reservation for next year despite the fact we live twenty minutes away?”

“Definitely.” Jemma kissed him. She loved their little tradition—and not simply because they could be as loud as they wanted without fear of interruptions. “I already have plans for next year.” 

She tossed him a saucy look over her shoulder and he raised an eyebrow in interest.

“Oh? Check out isn’t for another hour, why wait a year?”

“Because I need to shower.”

“Hmm, fine.” He pretended to pout as he muttered something about adding more reservations to their calendar. She turned on her heel and entered the spacious bathroom.

“Oh my, would you look at that?” Her voice echoed off the walls. 

“What?” Fitz followed. 

“A shower big enough for the two of us.” She dropped her clothes to the floor and reached for him. He moved with her, returning her kiss hungrily but then he paused. 

“Wait.” He retrieved her dry cleaned garments and hung them on the nearest hook while Jemma adjusted the water temperature. She was standing under the spray when he turned back around, water rolling down her body in rivlets. He stared at her and she couldn’t help but squirm at the adoring look in his eye.

“What?” She tilted her head.

“You’re absolutely right.” 

“I usually am. What about, this time?”

“We’re keeping this reservation for next year.” 

She laughed as he hastily dropped his pants and stepped into the shower.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I mean, _really_.


End file.
